


Comeback Story

by nobetterlove



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV), Thirteen Reasons Why - Jay Asher
Genre: Alternate Event, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Violence, PWP, Past Rape/Non-con, Porn Without Plot, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 05:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10915722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetterlove/pseuds/nobetterlove
Summary: This is an alternate look at what happens after Clay leaves Bryce's house after getting his confession. Endorphins are running high and Tony is in the right place at the wrong time.





	Comeback Story

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciated this scene so much. For the first time, Clay really has his shit figured out. I wanted to explore how overwhelming that feeling could've been for him, and I ended up with this little gem. Let me know what you think! As always, thanks for the read!

Hard breaths pressed against his rib cage, the combination of rage and absolute triumph making it hard to suck in air. It didn't help, either, that he probably had a couple cracked ribs from the well placed kick of Bryce's foot. He'd never been in a fight before, that evidenced by the melon starting to take shape on his face, and the scratch-less nature of the most despicable human being he'd ever known. More than anything, Clay wished he could've at least done some damage. Bryce flaunted his disgusting behavior, with no one to put him in his place. One day, he thought. One day he'll be bigger, faster, stronger... and Bryce will finally get what he's owed from him.

The cold night air pressed against the open wounds of his face, causing a chill to pass through his body. Despite the cracked lip and the blood that gushed from it every time he moved it, Clay couldn't keep a smile off his face. He didn't intend to get in there and get his shit rocked. He didn't intend to leave with this many injuries, but fuck if it wasn't worth it. Some redemption for Hannah sat in his backpack, the blue nail polish sitting next to it, waiting to create the fourteenth and final tape. His entire being felt a whole lot lighter. Knowing his part, knowing how much he did to help- Clay could feel the fog of it all lifting little by little. He'd probably never get the piece of himself that ripped itself out when Hannah died, or the piece that followed along when the tapes came to light, when he found out his role. Maybe, though, maybe he'd bounce back and find the strength to move on one day at a time. 

Just as he was grabbing his bike to get the hell out of there, he heard the familiar putter of an engine. Looking up, he saw Tony looking at him through the open driver's side window, brow furrowed, a look of horror on his face. Clay ignored him for a moment, walking his bike down the path until he got to the sidewalk. He wanted to be free and clear of Bryce's house, free to move the evidence to a safe place where it'd be used for good, not covered up or destroyed. Blue eye stayed downcast, his feet carrying him down the sidewalk, bike in tow. Clay felt the Mustang behind him before he heard it. Tony was following inch for inch, his upper half hanging out the window, almost like he wanted to catch Clay and pull him through the crack. 

"Clay, what the hell happened?" Tony asked, his voice slightly panicked, high and out of tune for the boy. Clay stopped abruptly, coming to a halt a few houses down, the neighborhood still towering over him, but Bryce left behind, at least a little bit. "I got it, Tony. I fucking got him," Clay murmured, a lip splitting smile slamming across his face. He probably looked manic, insane in a way that most people would probably be afraid of. "He admitted it and I fucking got it. You can stop following me around now. I'm finally done." Clay spoke that last bit with finality. He planned to hand the tapes over tomorrow, hoping their terrible guidance counselor would do the right thing for once.

Clay came back around quickly when he felt a hand on his face. His eyes blinked and he took a huge step back. His reflexes from the fight a couple of minutes ago still on high alert, his body ready to protect itself for more damage if necessary. "He beat the hell out of you, man. You look fucking terrible," Tony got out, the boy taking a step toward him now that he was out of the vehicle. When calloused fingers came into contact with his skin again, Clay let out a growl. The mixture of endorphins and pain pulling the noise from his mouth. "Why do you even care, Tony? I did what needed to be done. Out of all of us, I did what she deserved. I did what you guys should've done a long fucking time ago." 

Clay could feel his rage start to boil over. He didn't know why he was treating Tony like this. During his tape, the shorter guy was his savior, the unhelpful Yoda that forced him to keep listening, Clay so glad that he did. They were slowly working back to being friends. Hell, Clay knew he'd never quite liked Tony as just a friend. Yet, he couldn't control the words coming out of his mouth. Listening to Bryce talk so cavalierly about something that pushed a beautiful girl over the edge brought all the pain from the situation back, Tony's caring tone only enhancing it. 

Tony held up his hands, the gesture of surrender only making Clay more angry, pushing him one step further. Before he could really control himself or stop, his feet were moving forward, hands tangling in Tony's shirt as he walked the shorter boy back, back until a huff of breath left his lips. Brown eyes were looking at him curiously, the affection of a friend changing into something that looked like lust and worry, excitement and fear. "I bet you like this. Me pushing you around like this. Everyone loves to push everyone else around. Might as well enjoy it, right?" Clay leaned forward saying this, leaving each word against the skin of Tony's cheek. 

"Clay, man, I know you're upset right now, but you're acting kind of crazy." Tony replied, his voice even, calm in the most frustrating way possible. "I am crazy, Tony! I'm crazy and sad and so fucking angry. I hate this. Feeling this." Clay's voice continued to escalate, the sound starting to echo down the empty street. The houses around him were impenetrable, though, the noise probably not even making a dent in the fortresses around them. People were going about their lives, ignorant to the pain, ignorant to the shit happening just outside their rich little worlds. 

His fingers tightened in Tony's shirt, the tips of them straining the fabric. Tony's eyes softened at him, the look of pity and understanding crossing his face making Clay want to punch it off. Which is exactly what he did. He pulled his fist back and swung, connecting knuckles to jaw. He let out a shriek, Clay feeling his knuckle break as his fist connected with something more solid than the last person he'd taken a swing at. "Be fucking mad, Tony. Be mad. Be mad at me!" Clay screamed the last words, blue eyes taking in everything about the guy in front of him. It was like the blow didn't even phase the other guy. He stood there, holding his cheek for a moment before brown eyes disappeared behind long lashes, Tony clenching his eyes together tightly. Probably to find the patience, or sneak attack him with a punch of his own. At this point, Clay didn't know and he sure as hell didn't give a damn. 

When an open palm rested against his cheek, Clay glanced up quickly, this reaction not one he expected a single fucking bit. "I'm mad, Clay. Just not at you. You fucking idiot. You just broke your hand on my face." Tony's voice grew a bit louder too, but his hand stayed soft, comforting in a way that Clay didn't want in that moment. 

He couldn't say what possessed him to do what he did next. Instead of drawing back to punch again, Clay surged forward, slamming his lips against Tony's in a punishing kiss. The lips below him didn't respond for a moment, Clay biting and nipping on his own time until Tony decided to actively take part. The shorter boy used his position to flatten himself against the car, strong arms wrapping themselves around Clay's waist to bring him closer. Tony gave as good as he got, tongue and teeth tangling, the coppery taste of blood mingling in their shared spit. 

They kept to that until Clay couldn't hold off any longer. His lip burned and his lungs burning even more, each second like hot irons pushing themselves against the walls of the organs. He tore away, pulling back just enough to get some air into his lungs before surging forward again. 

"Clay, you don't want to do this," Tony mumbled against his lips, the words being said contradicting the movement between them. Clay didn't even acknowledge the words, the plea coming from his friend. His hands moved to the back of Tony's neck, fingers threading roughly through the free hair there. Pants and growls were the only thing between them until Clay felt himself being forced back. 

"Stop, Clay. You don't want to do this." Tony repeated himself, anger now on his face, too. "Fuck you, Tony. I want to feel something other than this terrible feeling. Please. I want you to make it go away." For the first time since stepping out of Bryce's house, Clay felt himself step back from the anger cliff, reality hitting him square in the face. With a little clearer of a head, Clay could see the truth in his words, the truth in the fact that only Tony could do this for him. His friend had been there for him through it all, he could be there for this, too. 

"Please," Clay babbled again, body thrumming, hands by his sides wanting nothing more to be buried inside those locks again, getting tangled up in the soft strands. This time, Tony surged forward, the kiss a little less aggressive, but nowhere short on passion. "It's alright. It'll be alright, carino," Tony whispered, the words lost between them as kisses interrupted them. 

Hands flew every which way. It didn't matter that they were out in the open the way they were. He wanted skin and Tony and heat. He could easily forget everything going on with this body pressed against him. The familiarity of Tony made it that much better, made drowning everything out that much easier. Inching lower and lower, Clay kept one hand in Tony's hair, the other moving between them, stopping when he managed to get to the button of dark denim. "Clay, we're outside." Tony pulled away, brown eyes blown with lust and excitement. He could see the guy struggling for some control, though, Tony probably knowing he'd be the only one with it. 

"Then let's get somewhere not outside," Clay said against tan skin, his fingers still working to get the button undone, the boy finally succeeding after another heartbeat or two. Hands pushed him again. Tony stood there with his jeans open, hair in disarray, his prominent erection pressing against the front of his jeans in the most tantalizing ways. "Get in the fucking car," the shorter boy managed to get out. Clay didn't hesitate. He ran around the side of the Mustang, his bike left laying on the sidewalk, the thing be damned. 

Tony hopped into the driver's seat, Clay watching as his jeans lowered the second he sat. Itchy fingers immediately went back to their task, Clay fumbling with the zipper while Tony got the car into drive, the boy's foot heavy on the gas. The taller kid let out a sound of triumph when he managed to sneak his fingers through the tight confines of jeans and boxer briefs, the tips of his fingers making their first contact with the smooth flesh of Tony's dick. 

Tony jumped, his foot slamming onto the gas before he got himself back on track. Brown eyes glared at him, the lust and annoyance practically swallowing him whole. That didn't dissuade Clay a single bit, though. He struggled to let more of his fingers into the area, the flesh getting stroke after stroke as he did. The fact that his focus was anywhere but on Hannah and rape and the terrible people around him only made Clay's want worse. He could recognize just how incredible this was and use it to let all the other bull shit go. 

They finally pulled into a darkened place, a roof overhead, the front closed over, leaving only the entrance they passed through the only open thing. Clay quirked a brow, but said nothing, just glad to be somewhere he could pull Tony's dick out completely and stroke the entire length with his fingers. "This is one of my brother's places. We'll be alone here." Tony said this, not giving anymore time to respond as he reached across the console with one hand, forcibly grabbing Clay's shirt. He slammed their lips together, once again breaking the smallest of scabs on Clay's lip, blood starting to gush again. The taller boy pulled back, Tony's move stoking the fire. He swiped his arm across his mouth, collecting the blood along the way. "Now, get out and lose your clothes," Tony demanded, his voice strong, confident in a way that sent flaming tendrils of heat licking down his skin, settling in the pit of his stomach. 

It didn't take but a second for Clay to do exactly what he was told. His hands fumbled with the button on his jeans. He let out a noise when he got them open, the fact that his erection got more room bringing a sigh of relief. When he made it around to the front of the car, Tony was standing there, his cock in his hand. The boy was shirtless, his tattoos on display. His bottom half was still completely covered, cock hanging out through the slit in his boxers, the same way Clay left it. "Take off your clothes," Tony repeated again, hand still steadily moving up and over his length. Clay stared for a second, imagining his own hand doing that. He sprung into action when the hand stopped. Blue eyes glanced up and met brown. Tony looked him up and down, staring pointedly at the pants still covering his legs. 

Clay kicked his shoes off, his jeans and underwear following. He probably looked silly, standing there in just a shirt and socks, cock proudly on display. Tony made a move then, legs carrying him until he could once again grab Clay's shirt in his hands. He used the leverage to pull him close, both boys nose to nose, neither moving, neither seeming to breath, even. 

"You're so sexy and this is a mistake. But you're so fucking sexy," Tony babbled, the boy having an internal debate out loud. Tony must've come to a decision a second later because lips were pressed fiercely against Clay's. The blood didn't matter, the stinging cut on his lip didn't hinder- the two fought back and forth, tongue and teeth, nips and bites and sucks. The fact that Clay found his back against the hood of the Mustang surprised him. His brain totally focused on the dominant push and pull to notice his own body moving, giving way under Tony's ministrations. 

Before he could blink, Tony was ducking between his legs. A gasp left his mouth. Something wet slid between his butt cheeks. Blue eyes searched, watching as Tony moved, his head bobbing. Clay quickly realized the wetness was the boy's tongue. It slipped expertly against the rim of his straining hole, the tip pressing with some force, requesting entry. Clay's mouth lay open, his jaw on the floor. He'd never even heard of anything like this before, let alone thought about how good it would feel. Now that it was happening, that was all he could think about- how good it felt. 

Soon, a finger was probing where only Tony's tongue had been. The tip of it slid in pretty easy, the digit covered in what he guessed was saliva. Tony inched the finger in inch by inch, until the knuckle was pressed firmly against his tailbone. He set a gentle rhythm at first, then a punishing one the more Clay relaxed. One quickly turned to two, which turned to three. Each new finger brought a new level of needy. Clay could hear the wanton moans, but didn't register that they were coming from his own mouth. 

Abruptly, fingers were removed, Tony standing up. Clay watched as the boy reached into his back pocket, grabbing his wallet. The realization that he was grabbing for a condom made Clay laugh. Hysterically. Though the sound quickly changed to moans, each clench of his stretched ass making him want more... more. 

Tony was above hesitating at that point. Tan fingers rolled the condom down his length, then he spit into his palm, coating as much of the rubber as he could. Tony stepped between his legs until Clay could do nothing else but wrap them around his hips. For the first time since hopping on the front of the car, Clay could see Tony eye to eye. "You sure about this, Jensen?" Tony asked softly, his voice gruff with arousal, yet eyes light with compassion and understanding. 

Clay nodded, his brain too lust addled to reply with words. He just kept nodding his head up and down, mouth open making noiseless sounds. Tony grinned, letting out a low chuckle. "Yeah, me too, buddy," Tony mumbled, draping himself over Clay. Before he could even think on what it might feel like, Tony was pressing the tip of his dick against his entrance. Lips were on his as he pressed in. The distraction was nice, just enough to take a bit of the edge of. The burn, though, that persisted. It stuck around and didn't start to ease until they were flush together, Tony's hips against his ass. The boy stayed mercifully still for a couple of moments, letting Clay adjust. 

Once the thrusting started, however, Clay forgot about the pain entirely. The tip of Tony's cock pressed so sweetly against a spot inside him, making him see stars. "Fuck, Tony!" Clay shouted, that seemingly enough encouragement for Tony to keep doing it. Thrust after thrust, that spot was hit dead on. His lower half felt tight, the heat in his stomach a mouse trap, pulled back and ready to spring. 

Tony muttered things in Spanish against his skin, unintelligible things that sounded so fucking sexy. Clay lifted his hips, listening to the muttered words as he met the other thrust for thrust. His orgasm hit him like a freight train. One second, blue pools were watching Tony intently, the next, he was blinking spots from in front of his eyes. It felt like his entire body melted into goo, like ice cream on a hot day; drip, drip, dripping. "Ah, ah! Fuck...." Clay's neck strained, head thrown back in ecstasy. 

"Shit. So tight. Tight, Jensen," Clay heard Tony babbled, then his hips stopped, pressing themselves in hard against his ass. Tony seemed to be trying to crawl inside him, the other as deep as he could possibly get. The extra stimulation to his prostrate did nothing but prolog the high for Clay. His entire body felt weak from it, legs and arms jelly against the sticky hood. 

"Holy fuck," Clay whispered, eyes closing when Tony pulled out. He felt a little less full, wishing almost instantly Tony never left. Interesting, he thought. He knew there was a reason he couldn't claim Tony Padilla to be just a "friend". Sighing, he forced his heavy lids to stay open, blue eyes taking in the sweaty heap on top of him. 

"Too right, man. Too right." Tony's voice sounded tired, the physical and mental exhaustion playing over them both. "You feeling better now?" 

Clay laughed, his chest sore from all the commotion and the beaten he took. Yet, he felt content. There was justice for Hannah on the horizon. And if the sleepy way Tony nuzzled in to said anything, there might be something for them there, too. 

"Much."

He let himself relax. 

Finally.


End file.
